Punch
by ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: '"He would never attack without provocation. I instigated this reaction Mycroft." Sherlock let out a soft sigh, lowering his head a little, as though ashamed.' Multi-chapter Sherlock fic in which John assaults Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

**This was initially a chapter for 'Nightmare' containing what I perceived would have been Sherlock's dream. However it became a longer work and, with having finished 'Struck Dumb', I felt the need to finish this multi-chapter story too.  
This is 10 chapters long and I intend to post two-three per day if people want to read it.  
Sorry for any mistakes. **

**Chapter 1:**

The perfectly aimed punch collided painfully with the detective's cheekbone, the impact emitting a resounding crack that bounced around the apartment as Sherlock stumbled backwards, his right hand flying to his now throbbing cheek and his left flailing for something to grab onto as he fought to regain his equilibrium, failing to do so when another punch rebounded from the right side of his jaw and he landed on the floor of his flat. His usually perfect vision was blurred from pain, but still he managed to fix his stare on his assaulter, fear in his eyes as yet another punch collided with his jaw.

The detective's head of floppy black curls ricocheted off of the kitchen floor as his relentless attacker struck his nose; an aching feeling spreading to his cheeks as a small line of blood trickled from his left nostril, the stream speeding up as the substance began gushing, dripping over Sherlock's once-white shirt and pooling on the linoleum around his head as he lay on the floor, halfway between the sitting room and the kitchen.

"John," Sherlock whimpered, the action causing a white-hot pain to shoot through his jaw and into his head, "please," he tried again as his doctor stepped forward, gripping Sherlock by the collar and pulling him upwards slightly as the man tried to curl himself into the smallest ball such a tall and lanky detective could accomplish, "stop." Sherlock saw the outline of his flat-mate's hand as he raised it to take another shot at the male just as a high-pitched shriek echoed around the room, emitting from the little old lady in the doorway.

"John!" The ex-soldier paused mid-punch, his hand hovering over Sherlock's face, his back to the elderly lady as he arched over the detective's huddled form; she rushed forward, prying the doctor's bloodied hands away from Sherlock's collar. The doctor turned on his heel, disregarding the trembling ball of detective and stomped up the stairs into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving the elderly landlady to take care of the bleeding man on the floor.

 **Please let me know what you think and if you believe that I should continue posting this.**

 **As the chapters for both this and 'Struck Dumb' are already written out, the posting rate of one won't affect the other.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	2. Chapter 2

**I want to apologise in advance that, much like my other stories, a lot of the chapters are quite short. That's why I'm aiming a multiple chapters per day.**

 **Here's the second chapter.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 2:**

"No," Sherlock's tone was decisive as he spoke, the action sending a shooting pain through the swollen jaw he was currently holding an ice pack to, trying to, at least, numb the pain that was causing his eyes to water, "no, we can't do that to John." Sherlock watched as his brother took a few steps further into the room, coming to a stop in front of his little brother's chair and squinting a little to inspect the damage.

Sherlock's hadn't had chance to clean himself up properly in the time that Mrs. Hudson had settled him into his chair with the promise that she _wouldn't_ phone an ambulance (or the police) if Sherlock could prove to her that he was in a fit state to look after himself. His nose was still blooded, the liquid having crusted around his nostrils and stained his face and neck from where it had run down, even his hands were covered from where he'd tried futilely to stop the bleeding. Both sides of his jaw were bruised, the right swollen from the force of John's dominant hand.

His shirt was unsalvageable and he knew that he was going to have to throw it out. He didn't think he could bring himself to wear it again anyway, not now that it would hold a reminder of this. His blood had soaked into the material and he was fairly certain that it would have also stained the skin beneath. Sherlock made a mental note to take a shower and get himself cleaned up once his brother had left the building.

"And what happens when he does it again?" Mycroft questioned simply, tapping the metal tip of his umbrella on the floor as he regarded his bloodied and bruised little brother with what Sherlock would argue, if he were anyone other than _Mycroft_ , was concern in his eyes.

"He won't." Sherlock stated, his eyes flickering towards the general area of the staircase that led up to John's bedroom. The ex-army doctor hadn't emerged from his bedroom since he had shut himself in there after the incident. Sherlock was sure his hands were very likely to still be coated in his blood.

"How can you be sure?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his brother, a smug look gracing his features.

"He's John." Sherlock mumbled and Mycroft was sure that Sherlock would have shrugged had it not been for the ice that was resting against his jaw. The detective's eyes drifted down to the end of Mycroft's umbrella that was tapping incessantly on the floor, every beat sounding like a drum to Sherlock's pained head. A lump had appeared on the back where it had cracked against the floor and Sherlock was thankful that he wasn't suffering any signs of a concussion.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you in this household." Mycroft noted, his own eyes flickering towards the staircase to John's attic room.

"I'm not," Sherlock frowned at his brother, "Mycroft, he's not _abusive_." The emphasis was clear and Mycroft, finally, stopped tapping his trademark umbrella and, instead, focused solely on the words coming from his younger brother. "He would _never_ attack without provocation. I instigated this reaction Mycroft." Sherlock let out a soft sigh, lowering his head a little, as though ashamed.

"Sherlock, no matter what it was that you did, it did _not_ give John the right to attack you." Mycroft sighed. "And I will not allow him to freely walk away from it."

"You," Sherlock gasped at the pain that shot through his jaw as he lifted his head too fast, but he fixed his eyes on his brother, a threatening darkness clouding them, "will not hurt him."

"Of course not." Mycroft was quick to assure his brother in a patronising tone. "I am simply going to offer him an ultimatum." Sherlock watched with a frown as his brother turned to leave the flat, but made no move to stop him. Once he was certain that Mycroft had gone, Mrs. Hudson wasn't coming to fuss around him like a mother hen and John wasn't returning from his bedroom, he stood and took himself for a shower.

Stripping of his soiled clothes, he looked at himself in the mirror with a sigh.

 **Thank you for reading. What did you think?**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapters three and four.**

 **Thank you all for the reviews, follows and favourites.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 3:**

John had been expecting it. He was completely aware that Mycroft would not allow something like this to happen without his intervention. He had prepared himself for shouting, he had prepared himself for being arrested, or being told the news that he was going to be sent away to his death. He hadn't expected to have been taken to the Diogenes Club to see the man. He certainly hadn't expected to have been offered a cup of tea by the man when he got there.

"Now, Doctor Watson," There was absolutely no change in Mycroft's voice and that terrified John more than he believed being shouted at _or_ told that he was being exiled and unlikely to return would. Anyone would have been forgiven for believing that they were just having a regular chat, "as you are likely aware, my little brother refuses to press charges against you. He doesn't feel that you deserve it." Mycroft noted and John stared at his untouched cup of tea.

"No," His voice was barely above a whisper and he mentally reprimanded himself for sounding so weak in Mycroft's presence.

"I do believe that you deserve it." Mycroft noted, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. "You damaged my little brother John. I entrusted you with him and you injured him. You are lucky that he is so loyal to you otherwise those files," he nodded to the papers that Sherlock refused to sign, "would be in the hands of Scotland Yard and you would be looking at a sentence for grievous bodily harm."

"Yes." John nodded, wishing that Mycroft would impale him with the umbrella that was sitting beside the chair. John was prepared to bet that it would hurt less than the pain he was already feeling. John felt absolutely terrible. A momentary lapse in judgement had pushed him over the edge and, in that moment, he had damaged his _best friend_. It was something that he would _never_ be able to forgive himself for.

"I am prepared to withhold the charges, Doctor Watson; I will not go against my little brother's wishes on this matter. However, I will _not_ allow you to remain living with my brother unless you agree to receive anger management counselling. I _will not_ put Sherlock in harm's way." John felt like Mycroft's gaze was burning a hole through him and nodded his head without a second thought.

"Yes."

 **Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter 4. Sorry that this chapter is so short. However, I think this is the shortest chapter of the story.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 4:**

Sherlock was lying on the sofa in the sitting room when John returned from his meeting with Mycroft, he had been in his bedroom when John had been 'abducted' by Mycroft's men. He was wearing his pyjamas, his head resting against the arm of the chair, elevated slightly, and he was, once again, holding an icepack to his bruised jaw. His eyes flickered towards the door when John entered, noting how his head was bowed. John didn't even attempt to make eye contact with the detective.

"Will you be attending?" Sherlock questioned, his speech slightly distorted from the injuries on the inside his mouth from where his teeth had cut into the inside of his lips at force of John's punch. The questioned succeeded in gaining John's attention and he glanced up, not even needing to question what the detective was talking about.

"Yes." John nodded, averting his gaze as soon as he had answered the question. He hovered momentarily in the doorway before shifting towards the centre of the room. Sherlock's eyes followed him, trying to decide what he was doing before he, apparently, made up his mind and made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom. Sherlock frowned, trying to figure out what was going on with friend.

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 and 6 will be posted today.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 5:**

In the days following the incident, John failed to leave his bedroom for anything other than the use the toilet or attend his anger management sessions and Sherlock had to admit that he was worried about him. Despite what had happened, John was his friend and Sherlock was more than aware that he was locking himself away out of guilt. Sherlock knew that he couldn't allow him to do so. He dragged himself from his bed, forcing his way up the stairs that led to John's attic bedroom and knocked tentatively on the door.

At the groan that came from the inside of the room, Sherlock pushed open the door, poking his head into the room. John was lying on top of his duvet and, at the creaking of the door, rolled over to face his visitor. He looked awful. The light that Sherlock had let into the, otherwise, dark room illuminated the bags under his eyes and Sherlock knew instantly that the man hadn't been sleeping. He was also sure that he hadn't been eating either. He had to do something.

"I was thinking about contacting Angelo to see if he had any good breakfast deals." Sherlock lied, his speech slightly muffled from the swelling of his jaw. "Is there anything you'd like?"

John didn't speak. Instead he groaned, shaking his head in the negative as Sherlock stepped into the room, unconsciously leaving the bedroom door open. He made his way over to his friend's bed and stood near the end of it, looking at John.

"You need to eat, John." He advised. "You'll make yourself ill." John simply shook his head again, slowly pushing himself upwards so that he was in a sitting position, his head turned towards the detective.

"Please leave, Sherlock." John grumbled, his voice slightly hoarse as his eyes flickering towards the open door.

"But John-," Sherlock began to argue.

"Please." The doctor interrupted, noting how, when he unintentionally shifted his arm, Sherlock flinched. With a pain in his chest, the realisation that his best friend was frightened of him hit him and, unable to stop it, John's face crumpled and tears escaped.

"John," Sherlock breathed, watching as he shook his head.

"No. Please, Sherlock, just leave. I can't - I don't - _please_ , Sherlock." The detective watched him for a moment before turning to leave.

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	6. Chapter 6

**And chapter 6.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 6:**

"What does he expect to achieve from hiding himself away?" Mycroft's voice awakened John from his slumber. He rolled over, his eyes flickering to the alarm clock on his bedside table, the time reading mid-afternoon. "Sympathy?"

"Guilt." Sherlock supplied. "He's punishing himself for his actions. He's up there alone wallowing in guilt. He's not trying to _achieve_ anything." Sherlock shifted position, folding his right leg over his left. "He can't even look at me, Mycroft. He can't look at my face and see the damage that he's caused. He's not trying to gain anything from this." Sherlock repeated. "He's frightened to look at what he's done."

"I simply do not understand why you're trying to defend him." Mycroft twisted the handle of his umbrella, the metal tip dancing in the carpet of the sitting room.

"He's my _friend_ , Mycroft." Sherlock spat. "Yes, I admit, he overstepped the mark and this was _not_ necessary. But he wouldn't hurt me without a reason. I've said before, I provoked this. I said some awful things to him and I pushed his buttons. I knew that I was going to far and I could have prevented this if I'd stopped when he asked me, _politely_ I might add, to stop."

"Sherlock, you cannot justify his actions. A court would class this as an unprovoked assault. Its not as though he was acting out of self-defence." Mycroft argued.

"Mycroft, he's attending his anger management sessions. He hasn't missed a single one. Your condition for allowing him to stay with me was that he must attend regular counselling sessions."

John could feel a lump growing in his throat as he listened to the pair. Sherlock was standing up for him. John had hurt him and Sherlock _wanted_ him to stay. John found himself distracted as his emotions overtook him and he found himself dissolving into tears. He was so out of it that he didn't realise he'd been joined in the room until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up, his eyes locking with Sherlock's. The detective's eyes were also red, tears rolling down his bruised cheeks.

 **Please let me know what you think.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	7. Chapter 7

**Apologies in advance if Sherlock seems a little out of character in this chapter.**

 **Here are chapters 7 and 8.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 7:**

"I can't stand to see you like this." Sherlock whispered, not trusting his voice. "I can't stand to see you in such a state." Sherlock's hand was still resting gently on John's shoulder, moving a little in a bid to comfort him. "Please, don't cry, John. I forgive you." At this John began to cry harder.

"You shouldn't." He hiccoughed. "You shouldn't forgive me, Sherlock. I caused you harm. I caused you _pain_. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I'm supposed to be your friend and I hurt you."

"But it doesn't matter." Sherlock stated. "Because you're my friend."

"Sherlock, just because we're friends doesn't make it okay for me to hurt you. In fact, that just makes it worse. Friend's should not hurt one another. You do know that, don't you Sherlock?" John questioned suddenly. "You _do_ understand that nothing makes hurting someone you care about okay, don't you?"

"But I know that I upset you." Sherlock murmured, apparently a little stumped by this new information.

"And I should have dealt with it like an adult. I should have walked away and calmed down. I _should not_ have hurt you Sherlock." John stated.

"Is this going to affect our friendship now?" Sherlock questioned, his face taking on a childlike expression. "Does this mean that we can't be friends anymore?"

"Oh, Sherlock." John sighed softly.

"You can't look at me." Sherlock noted. "Because you know that you caused this." He gestured to the bruising on his face, the swelling on his jaw. "If you can't look at me, if you can't leave your bedroom, how is our friendship going to work?" Sherlock questioned. "I can't lose you John." Sherlock stated suddenly.

"Sherlock-," John was interrupted.

"I don't want our friendship to end because of this." Sherlock mumbled.

 **Sorry this chapter was so short.**

 **Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	8. Chapter 8

**There are two more chapters to follow this one and then this story is finished.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 8**

Sherlock was sitting in his black leather chair, seemingly in his mind palace, when John finally came down from his bedroom. He appeared rather bedraggled. His sandy hair was unkempt and mussed, clearly having not been combed since the previous day when he went to visit his therapist.

John had promised, following their odd display the night before, that he would at least make an effort to spend time with the detective.

He knew that, in order to prevent any more damage being bestowed upon their friendship, it was important that he could be around Sherlock.

The doctor mentally debated on whether or not he should make his presence known to the detective, but he knew that Sherlock hated it when he interrupted his thought process. Even more so when he was in his mind palace. There was no confusion there, he had made that quite clear when their friendship was first beginning to blossom.

"Oh!"

John started violently at the sudden exclamation that emitted from his friend and looked up from his hands, the skin around his nails now picked to the point of being sore, to see Sherlock staring directly at him.

His kaleidoscope eyes were round and wide, his right hand resting on his chest, close to where his heart resides.

"When did you come in?" He demanded, surprised that John's presence hadn't pulled him from his thoughts.

John simply shrugged in response, keeping his mouth closed as his eyes danced across Sherlock's frame. The detective's entire body was tense, even his shoulders had been raised slightly towards his jaw but when he realised that it was simply John sitting across from him and not some psychopathic murderer he began to relax.

 **Thank you for reading (again), please let me know what you think.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here are the last two chapters of this story.**

 **I know it wasn't great, but I enjoyed writing it.  
Sorry for any mistakes. **

**Chapter 9**

"John?"

Sherlock tilted his head to the side as he emerged from his bedroom to find the doctor hunched over the kitchen table, his arms folded under his head and on top of what looked to Sherlock like documents from his anger management counsellor.

Sherlock, currently unwilling to attend any cases with his facial injuries, had been asleep when the doctor had returned from his session. Until now, he hadn't realised just how little sleep the poor doctor had been getting.

"John?"

He tried again, gently placing his hand on John's back in between his shoulder blades. The action awakened John's inner soldier and he started, jumping a little into alertness and turning to face whoever it was that had disturbed him. He seemed to calm a little when his gaze fell on Sherlock.

"Go to bed."

At this the ex-soldier shook his head.

"I can't, Sherlock." He sighed softly. "Mycroft is coming to see me, remember?"

Of course Sherlock remembered, he was dreading his brother coming _again_.

"You have plenty of time to go on upstairs to your bedroom and sleep." Sherlock assured him. "I'll come up and wake you when he arrives if you're not already awake by then. Yes?"

John was very aware that there was no use in arguing with Sherlock.

Mycroft's visit was certainly less than enjoyable for John. The British Government all but kicked Sherlock out of the sitting room so that he could speak with John in private.

John knew, and he was sure Mycroft did as well, that Sherlock was standing at the door listening in to their conversation.

Mycroft noted that John seemed to be doing well in terms of his regular anger management sessions, but he intended to make certain that John knew not to harm his little brother again. Not that John planned to.

In doing so, he reignited John's guilt and left the doctor in tears once more.

Even Sherlock couldn't manage to calm him down this time.

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	10. Chapter 10

**And here's the final chapter.**

 **Thank you for reading, for all the reviews and the follows and favourites.**

 **I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Chapter 10**

Several months had passed since John had walloped poor Sherlock in the kitchen of 221B and the doctor had just concluded his final counselling session with both his counsellor and Mycroft deciding that he was finally stable enough to go without.

Sherlock's injuries had healed nicely and the pair had been working hard on ensuring that their friendship was not affected by the incident.

"Ah, John!" Sherlock exclaimed as the man entered the apartment.

John blinked in surprise as Sherlock shot up from his seat at the kitchen table, discarding his experiment. In a few long strides, Sherlock crossed the space to him, a bright smile on his face.

"You're finally free."

He grinned happily surprising John even more when he wrapped his arms tightly around him.

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


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